The Other Side of Oblivion
by DesertPaint
Summary: Whiterun is in serious trouble. Taken over by Numinex, a dragon with a thousand year old grudge, and with an obscure cult behind it, things don't look promising. With no help coming, how much longer can they hold out? Well not entirely without help...A group that was never exactly on the right side of the law is taking their chance at redemption. No one said being the hero was easy


**Hello my fellow dovakiin. Welcome to skyrim… ha, wow that sounded so weird. Anyway, I'm sure you click this to read my blather. Ha-ha…blather…**

I'm staring at the ceiling. It's dark but I can make out the embedded stone bricks. There seems to be a light source coming from somewhere to my right, but I can't seem to get up. When I squint, I can see moss growing between the ugly facade of stone. Then again, the more I look at it, the more it looks like mold. Is there even a difference? Moss is…green? No, mold can be green too.

I try to sit up, but black spots dance across my vision. When I open my eyes a second time, I'm lying down again. The ache in my head is pretty painful, but I've had worse. That doesn't stop it from hurting like oblivion come to life in my skull. There _are_ intercessions in the pain. It goes for a second, then pulses back, like someone repeatedly kicking me in the head.

_What happened? _I gritted my teeth trying to remember. All I could see was a blur; nothing made sense. Fire. That's all I could recall. A huge fire, big enough to consume an entire city.

"Hey! The O' So great leader awakens! Welcome back to reality, my friend!" A man's sarcastic voice crows, interrupting my struggle to remember what happened.

I blink and roll my head over toward the voice. My gaze lands on a lean, but well muscled man with scruffy brown hair and identically colored eyes. He's leaning back against a wall, which as I look around, seems to be enclosing us on three sides. The fourth wall is made of iron bars.

"Sithis!" I curse softly. When I look around the tiny cell, I see a single lantern resting on the bench that the man is sitting on. I'm laying on a matching one opposite him.

The man chuckles, and when I look up is grinning ferociously. I look closer at him and see despite his laughter, he looks unwell. His skin is that of someone who hasn't seen the sun for a very long time. His hair is so slicked with grease it sticks to his face and neck.

"You had one hell of a concussion Olaf." He says wickedly.

I squint in confusion. _What is he talking about? _

"My name isn't Olaf." I say slowly, testing out the words. Making sure my brain didn't shuffle them in a different order.

He just grins some more, looking unfazed. "Well you sure look like him. You know, one eye and everything." He pulls down the skin beneath his eye, which in combination with his sharp-toothed grin, makes him look quite demented.

"What?!" I immediately reach a hand up to my eyes, probing for damage. I test my vision. It certainly seems like I have both eyes. When I move my hand to my left eye however, I flinch. The skin is swollen and tender. And now that I realize it, obscures the top half of my vision.

"It's just a black eye." I sigh in relief. The man takes a swig of some brownish liquid in a dusty bottle.

"Sure as Sovngarde, it's a black eye, what with that battle. I'm surprised you lived, though I suppose old shoddy scales would want to keep you around. Everybody knows how dragons are. Huge egos, probably want to let you watch as he burns this hell hole to the ground-"

"Dragon?… yes… dragon, there was a dragon, wasn't there?"

The man gives me a strange look, his never ending grin with a raised eyebrow. As though he's questioning my sanity, and having a lot of fun going about it.

"Yeah, you were there. Probably just your concussion. It'll all come back to you in a few minutes."

I concentrate as hard as I can, attempting to clear my mind, and let the memories slide back in. Nothing comes. Again I focus, squeezing by eyes shut for good measure. Some blackness, remembering a blazing fire, a cold terror, and some screaming. And then, just fire… damn fire. I bite my tongue in frustration, and taste blood. Then suddenly, with the blood filling my mouth, it all comes back. Everything slams into my brain like a giant's club.

I was in the cloud district, Irileth at my side. She had her sword drawn, her red eyes wide, staring at the scene in front of us. She was shaking head, shouting at me.

"The Battle-Borns' house is too far gone! We can't save it. We must stop the fire from spreading to the rest of the city, my Jarl." She informed me grimly.

I wiped soot from my eyes and turned to her, "We can't leave it! Olfrid's family is still in there!"

I remembered dragging Olfrid from the burning house. He had been unconscious. He would kill me if I left his wife and child still inside.

"I am telling you there isn't a choice! Not unless you want to see the rest of Whiterun burned to the ground. The fire is spreading!" She tried to pull me away from the ruins of the once proud manor. I shook her off and rushed toward the blazing wreckage. Then I heard the sound of wood snapping and the barren structure caved in on itself. I skidded to a stop in front of it, staring into the flames. For a long moment I just stood there gaping in shock, trying to process it. They were dead. I couldn't save them and now they were gone.

Hopelessness threatened to overtake me. I saw Irileth come to stand next to me at the edge of my vision.

"I'm sorry," she said "But we have to go help the others." I just turned to her, and nodded.

The present came rushing back with the hacking cough of my cellmate. He spit on the floor and resumed drinking, chugging at least half the bottle before he spoke.

"Yeah, you remember don't you?" He says, smiling. His eyes search my face for confirmation.

I ignore his question. "Who are you?"

He laughed again. His expression transforming into some kind of bitter humor. "I guess you wouldn't remember. "I'm just another criminal you sent to prison," He pauses for a second, deep in thought, "The name's Thrynn."

"I don't remember you." I tell him. _How could I send a man to prison and not know his name?_

Then something occurs to me. "Why didn't you slit my throat in revenge? I'm sure I was unconscious in here for quite some time."

He let out a coughing laugh. I was really starting to get annoyed by that.

"What's the point? We're all gonna die anyway. And I'm not a cold-blooded murder."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Aw forget it." He waves it off and takes another swig of his drink.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Time just seems to blow away in the imaginary wind. _I wonder how he knows what happened outside of the dungeon. And why am I not dead? Why isn't everyone dead? _I ask nothingness. _Well you don't know if everyone's still alive. For all you know, they were all burned alive. _The bitterness crept in. I had failed to protect my citizens, my city. _ My mistake. My responsibility. _

I decide to ask my first inquiry. "How do you know what happened if you were down here?"

He shifts his position and grunts, "Well Olaf, for one, I could hear something was going on up there. People screaming, some roars here and there. Wasn't that hard to figure it was a dragon. For two, I have people that tell me what's going about now and then. Usually it's pretty easy to get info from drunken guards, but I didn't even have to do that. They came in here screaming for mercy from the gods, and practically running into the cells themselves. And for three, it got hot," he licked his cracked lips, and shook his head with a devilish grin, "Oh it got hot alright. See once heat gets in it can't get out. Just back the way it came, and since there ain't much circulation, well you get the idea. Like a furnace, that's about the right heat. Yeah… you start to get crispy real fast. And if it's that hot? Something's gotta be burnin'. You catch my drift, Olaf?" He cocks an eyebrow toward me.

I nod, imagining what it must have been like. _And I thought it had been hot close up to the fire. But at least the heat had somewhere to go. Down here? Nothing. _I decide to correct him one last time about my name.

"Look…Thrynn," I say his name awkwardly, not used to being so informal with people, "My name is Balgruuf, Jarl Balgruuf. Not Olaf."

He just shakes his head looking at me speculatively, but still with that Godsdamn annoying grin.

"Nah, you look more like an Olaf. With the eye." He says shortly and spreads out along his bench, moving the lantern to the floor, obviously wanting to get some sleep.

I sigh and do the same.

The loud creaking of metal against metal is what woke me. I heard it and jolted awake. The bars had opened, I observe unexpectedly. I stand up and see five faces outside the cell. One is standing in the doorway, holding a lantern in the palm of his hand. No wait… not a lantern. It's just a light. A single bubble of light, sustained by some invisible force. One thing pops into my head. Magicka.

I never really liked it. It was more of something I left to my court wizard Farengar. Never really understood it. Never really wanted to. It seemed like a cheap way to defeat a man. Not by the test of his steel, but some otherworldly energy. I always thought it was for the Gods, not meant for Nords.

Pushing away my initial discomfort, I straighten myself, trying to retain my look of authority I put on in panicked situations.

"You are to come with us. The master wishes to speak with you." The man standing in the doorway asserts dully. His voice is rather pinched, probably the product of his unnaturally long nose.

"And who is this master of yours?" I ask stiffly.

"You will meet with him soon. I'm sure he would rather introduce himself."

I quickly weigh my chance of escape. The man with the long nose holds no visible weapons and neither does the man with the light. His three other companions, however, do. All three have shiny, silver swords hanging from their belts. The two I assume are mages wear heavy red cloaks that could easily conceal small knives or some magic item. The three left over are wearing light armor that might be straightforward to kill _if _I had a weapon. Which unfortunately, I don't.

I sigh. "Then what are we waiting for?" I step forward, and see the slight surprise on the man's face.

"Can I come?" An upbeat voice filled to the brim with sarcasm interrupts.

The long-nosed mage turned his cold gaze to Thrynn. He opens his mouth to speak but the other mage holding the light gets to it first.

"Hoping to get a pass with the master, Thrynn?" He sneered, "He doesn't take petitions from traitors."

Thrynn tosses his head, beaming like he had just been made thane.

"I wouldn't worry about that, I won't go begging to the likes of him, the dirty two-faced liar."

The mage sputters angrily and steps forward probably meaning to give him a beating, but the head mage gives him a hard stare. He calmly continues as though nothing happened.

"I don't believe the master has requested your presence." He looks at him like an irritating dartwing, but didn't really seem to care one way or the other. He turns around, "Now take Balgruuf to our master. I believe they have business to settle." He informs his companions.

"Don't forget to tell him I said hello!" Thrynn calls merrily. The long-nosed man ignores him and shuffles me out of the cell. I'm scooted into a narrow hallway with stone enclosing us from every direction. I know my own dungeon though. Down the hall will lead us out and onto the grounds. I'm quite certain they're taking me to Dragonsreach.

We reach the end of the hallway and they say a few words to the guard minding the door. He replies but I can't hear what either of them said. I make a mental note that there is only one guard at this end of the prison.

They open the door and a blinding light hits me full on. I grunt and shield my eyes. But they spare no time to allow me to adjust. The guards push me forward and I stumble along clumsily, still blind. I can smell soot, confirming my hunch. As we walk swiftly, I force myself to open my eyes, knowing that I have to take in my surroundings. The first things I see are the clouds. They're dark, and gloomy, like the sky wants to rain, but is filled with something other than water. Despite this, it's still amazingly bright for my sun-starved eyes.

We arrive at the bridge, and once across, will be at my home. _Well, my __**old**__ home._ As we walk, I try to look over my shoulder. I want to see if Whiterun is still there. A small voice in me warns not to look, that I don't want to see what I feared the entire time down in the dungeon. But the need overwhelms me; I have to see if it still stands. Or if it has indeed burned to the ground. But I don't get a chance. I'm roughly poked in the back and shoved forward. The one thing I can tell is that it is quiet. The beautiful rustle and bustle ambiance of Whiterun has been silenced. This fills my heart with dread.

At the huge ornately carved door we stop. The long-nosed mage turns back to face me. This was the first fear I've ever seen on his face.

"The master is not patient. He is violent when angered. I would advise you not to trigger his anger."

"I am afraid of no man. If I die, it will not be as a coward, afraid to challenge the man who burned down my home." I say astutely. And it's true. I plan to confront the man who has taken Whiterun.

I could almost swear the mage smiled. It was not a kind smile, but that of an adult, feeling sorry for the innocent child in his ignorance.

"We shall see. May your death be swift, Balgruuf."

And with that he sweeps back to the door and pushes it forward. He walks into Dragonsreach with a submissive walk; as if expecting punishment. I wait to be urged forward but no blow comes. I crane my head over my shoulder in confusion, only to see that the other guards have stepped away, to the edge of the door. It's just me and the lead mage. I swallow my fear and follow him in. I have just entered when I looked toward what was once my old throne.

All I can do is take the spectacle in with horror. If anything, this was _not _what I had expected. No one aside from me and the wizard are in the room. My throne is no longer there, in fact, nothing is on the dais that I and my advisors once analyzed the troubles of Whiterun from. Nothing, _except_ a dragon.

I stare at the crimson lizard for about half a second before it lets out an Earth-rattling roar. Then in a strangled, raspy howl, the dragon speaks, "I invite you forward, Olaf One-eye, my most hated foe. It is satisfying to see our circumstances switched. I being victorious, and you as my prisoner." The dragon, obviously male, gives a gruesome smile. His words grate on my ears, for they weren't meant to be heard. In his amber eyes, I see anger unmatched by anything I had ever seen or experienced. Everything in his body language says he is jumping at the chance to kill me.

Shaken, I can't speak. Sure he will choose to devour me right here and now. I've gone hunting a couple of times. Sometimes for food and other times just for the sport. Now I know the fear of an animal faced with a predator. I try to calm myself with limited success. Internally I growl at myself, _Come on man! If you die, die with courage! Not as helpless as a rabbit in a fox's claws! _

I take a breath of reassurance and ask, "You speak our tongue?"

"Of course, foul human. Your words do not come easily to me but I have learned them nevertheless." He sneers.

"Who are you? What is your purpose for taking Whiterun? Dragons such as you never take control of cities. Your kind prefers to burn them to the ground." I ask him, confused of his intentions. I had never seen a dragon strategically take a city. The more I think about it, the more absurd it seems.

The dragon's lip peels back in an approximation of disgust," Would you not know best? You, Olaf One-Eye were the one to imprison me in this wretched place. And now I shall do the same to you. I will make you watch as I raze your city, and kill each and every one of its citizens at my leisure. Oh how I would love to burn your bones to dust, but I have decided that a better punishment will be to destroy what you love most. Then I will leave you in the dungeons, to rot as I once did, sanity hanging by a thread." He finishes his tirade with a thundering growl.

The thing that strikes me is that he had called me Olaf One-Eye twice now. Olaf One-Eye was Jarl of Whiterun a thousand years ago. This dragon is completely off. Is he delusional? _Can _dragons be delusional?

I squint at him trying in vain to divine an answer; but you can't really tell with dragons. "Tell me your name, dragon!" I call to him, sounding infinitely more confident than I actually am.

He let out a small breath of fire then replied, "I…I am..." His voice wavers, unsure. How could anyone forget their own name? Maybe dragons weren't really used to them. But I was sure that when I listened to the old stories, the most feared dragons had names.

The dragon broke my train of thought, "I am Numinex." He still sounded insecure, but I detected a hint of pride. As though he was proud he had remembered.

My stomach sinks. This is one of those dragons from the old stories. One of the ones famous for being extraordinarily destructive. But what is his story from? I know it's important. It's right on the tip of my tongue. Then it hits me. _Oh curse it to Oblivion! _Numinex was the dragon that my ancient predecessor—Olaf One-Eye—had defeated atop Mt. Anthor. And I am quite sure his skull is supposed to be hanging above my throne. I have a million questions but one takes precedence. Why does he think that _I_ am his greatest nemesis? Olaf One-Eye?

"So you've taken over the entire city then?" I ask, avoiding the mistaken identity thing, not really sure it's the best thing to bring up at the moment. I'm also hoping to worm some information out of him.

Numinex grumbles in annoyance," Not quite. Some are still foolish enough to resist. But soon we will crush their rebellion. You will be getting no outside help."

"What makes you so sure? For all you know Falkreath, Morthal, or any Hold could be gathering their forces to aid us."

He gave his growling laugh, "Human, on this, I can be sure."

I wait for something more, but apparently he's not going to give up everything so easily. I sigh; this is going to be difficult. But I have gotten some useful information. Whiterun hadn't been entirely crushed. They were still fighting. And I intend to join them. Soon.

Suddenly, Numinex snaps his long head over towards the mage, growling something in Dragon's tongue. I almost forgot he was here.

The long-nosed mage that brought me in scuttles over to the dragon's side. He bows deeply, not lifting his head. "My Lord, what is it you require?"

"Take him back to the dungeon. Be careful, I need him alive. But anything short of death, feel free to inflict on him." Numinex commands. I could tell he likes giving orders.

"Yes, my Lord." The wizard responds respectfully.

He leads me back out of the main chamber and onto the bridge. I follow him silently across wondering what he and the other mages were doing in this.

"I never got your name, Spellcaster." I inquire, attempting to sound aloof. But in truth, I was curious.

I since his back is turned to me I can't see his expression. "Names are relative. They only have meaning if you let them." His voice sounds thoughtful if slightly amused.

"Relative? To what?" I ask.

"To your actions, how others perceive you. To your parents' whims." He sighs.

"Names have meaning to me."

He chuckles softly. He sounds awfully tired. "And what meaning might that be, Jarl?"

"So I can know what to call you if you stab me in the back," I say, "Or save my life." I tack on, as an afterthought.

"Hm." He mutters, and then is silent for a moment. "Since it seems to matter to you… hmm… well, you can call me Dukaan."

I frown. Obviously that isn't his real name, but I'm not sure how to get it out of him. "That's a strange name." I comment on choice of his alias.

We reach the entrance to the dungeon. He opens the door, but just before we go inside he turns back to me with an expression I can't quite describe. Bitter perhaps?

"You call it strange. I call it fitting." And without giving me a chance to reply descends into darkness. With a groan, I say my goodbyes to the sun. Then follow him.

**Quick note, this chapter was super long, so if you wanna see this story continue and you don't like very long chapters, tell me in a review, because I want to know what you guys wanna read, so help me out. So basically, for next chapter, there is going to be a switch in POV. Hope to see you guys there!**


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